strange bedfellows
by minachandler
Summary: Set during 1x05. True to his word, Benvolio sleeps on the floor. Rosaline starts to feel guilty.


Rosaline can't sleep.

Granted, she hasn't been able to for a while now - since Juliet's death, or even before then, when Juliet took the potion, if Rosaline is to be completely honest with herself - but tonight it seems worse than usual. She tosses and turns fitfully, childishly keeping her eyes shut as if pretending to sleep will help her actually sleep.

Finally, she opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling, thinking, thinking. She goes over and over Friar Lawrence's words in her head, willing her mind to focus on the mission and not stray to -

Benvolio.

She keeps her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not wanting her gaze to betray her by looking at him. She should feel guilty, really, for the way she stared at him as he towelled himself dry earlier that night, but she doesn't. She was just… appreciating the view. And a good view it was. Benvolio is certainly handsome - she can admit that, now that they have established that they are no longer enemies. There is something… soft about him, and it feels hard to explain even to herself what it is that draws her to him.

And yet it goes against every sensibility she has to be falling for him, the very man she had sworn she did _not_ want to marry. She was supposed to end up in a convent, for God's sake.

Despite herself, she can't help but glance over to Benvolio, and to her surprise she finds he's staring at her intently. When their eyes meet he looks away hurriedly, and Rosaline's brow furrows in confusion for a moment.

"Can't sleep, Capulet?" Benvolio says eventually.

"Too much on my mind," Rosaline replies, just as he chances another glance at her. She watches as he shivers, having no blanket to cover him, and a pang of sympathy goes out to him at that. "You?"

"Too cold," Benvolio says. "I won't pretend the floor is actually comfortable. But no matter. We only have one blanket between us, after all."

Rosaline groans inwardly, wishing she didn't have so much of a conscience. After a few more seconds, she sits up and relents. "Come here," she says, already regretting the words but nevertheless beckoning to him.

Benvolio raises his eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're cold and uncomfortable and you can't sleep because you're on the floor. At least if you're in the bed, one of us might be able to get an hour's sleep before nightfall."

"But… would that not be - improper?" he asks, and that insufferable smirk is on his lips and in his voice and it's impossible not to let him get under her skin.

"It would be," Rosaline says, making to get up, "which is why I'm going to sleep on the floor."

"But then _you_ would be cold and uncomfortable."

"Are you suggesting we share?" she asks, trying and failing to seem aghast by what he's suggesting.

"We have little other choice," Benvolio reasons. "If it helps… I know not to grab a woman without her permission."

"You mean you're not a savage," Rosaline says sarcastically. "Oh, joy."

"If you feel uncomfortable, then let me stay on the floor, Capulet."

Rosaline sighs, giving in. "Fine. Come on, then."

Benvolio gets up, and Rosaline moves to the edge of the bed as he gingerly pulls the blanket over him and gets into the bed. He keeps his distance from her, and at first Rosaline doesn't notice but then she realises he's barely covered by the blanket. She sighs again, moves back to where she was before on the bed, and after a moment Benvolio copies her, moving so he's no longer on the edge of the bed at risk of tumbling off it. Her back is to him, and they're not quite touching, but their limbs are close to each other, close enough for Rosaline to feel Benvolio's breath on the back of her neck.

"What's on your mind?" Benvolio asks quietly. Rosaline turns around at that, and she lets out a little gasp when she realises how close his nose suddenly is to hers. She moves back a little, cursing the person who made this bed and thought it was big enough for two people.

"My sister," Rosaline says half-truthfully. "I'm just worried about her."

"You know, when I saw you with your sister, you reminded me of something."

"What's that?"

"That I should still have faith in humanity," Benvolio answers.

"I don't understand."

"Even before Verona was out for my blood… I never thought much of people. I felt they only cared for themselves. I only cared for Mercutio and Romeo, and then… then I had no one. I _have_ no one."

"You have me," Rosaline says before she can stop herself.

"I do," Benvolio says, and he seems genuinely touched, "and for that I have no doubt that I am grateful. But when I saw you with your sister - I realised it was still possible to be selfless, to love someone with all your heart and expect nothing in return. To love someone, be responsible for someone, so unconditionally that you would drop everything to save them -"

"As you would have done for Mercutio or Romeo," Rosaline says, "in a heartbeat."

"When they were in my life," Benvolio says heavily. "Which they are no longer."

"I am your friend," Rosaline says firmly. "And before you make a crack at me being -"

"A Capulet?" Benvolio asks with a smile.

"- the last friend you have, I was going to say -"

"Now, now, Rosaline, you cannot possibly think that I will emerge from this unscathed."

"Perhaps not. But I am sure of one thing, Benvolio."

He looks up with something that looks like hope in his eyes. "And what's that?"

"Your innocence, of course," she answers. "And that… gets you further than you think. In the eyes of the Prince, anyway."

At the mention of Escalus Benvolio's expression hardens somewhat. "How can you be so sure of this?"

"Because…" Rosaline hesitates, then says, "I know the Prince. We know each other from childhood. And I know that he is a good man. I trust him to do the right thing."

Benvolio doesn't seem surprised at her revelation. He just nods slowly, as if coming to an understanding, and then he turns on his side so his back is to her. Rosaline exhales softly, and it's as Benvolio jerks his head forward sharply that she realises her breath is kissing the back of his head. Still, she doesn't move from her position; now he seems to have warmed up, the heat Benvolio exudes is oddly comforting.

(She learned that last night when they huddled for warmth together.)

"Well, I trust you," Benvolio says, and his sudden words catch her off-guard. "And if you say the Prince is a good man and he will be fair to me, I believe you. I just hope for my sake that you are right. But it doesn't change things."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… being a wanted man - the Prince's kindness notwithstanding - puts things into perspective. It makes you understand the more important things in life."

"And what are those things?" she asks. She's curious, now, because he still won't look at her. He surprises her, then, by turning around so he's facing her again, and to her further surprise he reaches down and searches for her hand, not stopping until their fingers are laced together. Rosaline finds herself squeezing his hand, so his hand and hers are tightly twined like vines. Benvolio opens his mouth, lips slightly parted, and he looks like he's about to say something, but then his hand slackens in hers and he turns away once more.

"Actually… it doesn't matter," Benvolio mutters.

"Benvolio…"

"You were right," he says, and he gets up and out of the bed, taking several steps away from it and her. "This is… improper."

"So is running off with a man in the middle of the night," Rosaline counters.

"And I know I am to blame for that too," Benvolio says ever so bitterly.

"No, I _chose_ to come with you. Just like I chose to be your friend rather than your enemy. And I chose to let you into this bed because I trust you. With my life."

"You trust me with your _life_?" The incredulity in his voice is not lost upon Rosaline.

"Of course," says Rosaline. "That's… usually how things go when someone saves your life several times in a row."

Benvolio smiles a rare smile, and now he sits on the bed next to Rosaline, who is still under the blanket.

"And here I was thinking you had forgotten the first time I saved your life."

"I'm not very good at being grateful," she admits. "Something my uncle and aunt like to remind me of."

"You don't need to be," Benvolio says firmly. "Not ever. But for what it's worth… I am grateful to you."

Rosaline tries not to feel pleased but there's no mistaking the pinkness suddenly on the tips of her ears.

"For what?"

"After Mercutio, and after Romeo… I was lost. And then you hurtled into my life -"

"Kicking and screaming, if you'll recall."

"- and it was like my life had _purpose_ once again when we first started investigating Friar Lawrence. Together."

"For what it's worth?" Rosaline says after a moment.

"Mm?"

"I'm glad I was betrothed to someone I could be friends with."

"As am I."

Rosaline pulls back the blanket and pats the space next to her. "Now, since we have improprieties out of the way," she says, "how about you get back to bed?"

"I never thought the day would come that a _Capulet_ would be asking me to be her bedfellow."

"Keep talking like that, _Montague_ , and you'll be back on the floor."

Benvolio laughs, and it's a glorious sound in the face of the adversity that is sure to come for them both. He gets into the bed, and for a moment their limbs squash together as he gets comfortable and moves to what has become his side of the bed.

"Wake me up in an hour," he says, and with that he falls asleep, almost instantly.

Rosaline closes her eyes, too, knowing she won't be able to sleep, but nevertheless comforted by the warm presence beside her.

"I'm coming to get you, Livia," she murmurs. Then she pauses, and she amends, " _We're_ coming to get you."


End file.
